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“I am looking to order a dress for myself.”
The pinched expression transformed into a barely suppressed sneer. “And you think that a working girl like you could afford such things?” Her lip curled as she glanced over Nora’s serviceable, if plain, day dress. “You could not purchase a yard of one of these fabrics, let alone enough to make even the smallest of undergarments, much less a proper dress worth wearing. And we do not make any other kind, of that I assure you.”
Nora felt like she’d been slapped or drenched in ice water. It took all her effort not to take a step back. “I believe you have the wrong impression…”
“I am quite sure I do not. Likewise, I am quite sure that there is a second-hand rag shop in Cheapside that would suit your means and your laughable sense of fashion.” Her voice was cold, leaving Nora feeling off-balance.
Even in the four years she’d worked as a maid, she’d never faced such disdainful treatment. She’d been looked down on and dismissed many times but never treated so rudely.
If she’d come in here as the daughter of Lord Beaumont, she knew the seamstress might not have been the most pleased, but she would have at least been cordial. This…
She didn’t know what to say or what to do. Her eyes were stinging, and she had to blink back the urge to cry.
Scarlett had no such problems. She stepped protectively in front of Nora, drawing the seamstress’s attention. Her eyes were flashing, her head thrown back. “Now listen here, you arrogant, heartless, old harpy…”
“Is there a problem here, my dears?” Abigail’s quiet, stern voice stopped Scarlett’s outburst before she could get any further. “Nora, darling?”
“It is nothing in particular…”
“It is not nothing. This woman…” Scarlett gestured to the seamstress “Doesn’t think Nora is an acceptable patron of this shop.”
Abigail’s expression never changed. Even so, something subtle altered in her stance and her eyes that turned her amiable expression cold and forbidding. “Is that so, Elizabeth? You do not think my future daughter-in-law is an acceptable patron of your establishment?”
The seamstress stepped back, shock and mortification wiping the sneer completely from her expression. “She... she is... your…?”
“Yes. I am sure you read the scandal sheets this morning. My son proposed to Nora last night, and she has since accepted his suit. It is my intention to present her at a formal supper to begin her proper introduction into Society before she becomes the Duchess of Bedford.”
“I... I see. Well, of course I…”
“Of course, next time, I expect you shall show my daughter-in-law the courtesy she deserves. But for now, I think we shall take our leave.” Abigail turned away and reached out to give Nora’s hand a quick, affectionate squeeze. “Come, my dears.” She made her way to the door in a stately glide.
Nora was only too willing to follow the Dowager out of the shop, still feeling shaken and humiliated by the seamstress’s attitude. Scarlett followed behind her, one arm around her shoulders in a protective gesture and expression set in a scowl.
Abigail waited until they were outside before she turned back to them, regret clear on her lined face. “I do apologize, my dears. I had no idea Elizabeth would behave in such a manner. I do believe I shall take my business elsewhere, at least for the remainder of this Season.”
“Where do you recommend we go now?” Nora swallowed the tightness in her throat.
“Well, as we cannot trust the local dressmakers to maintain an appropriate level of professional behavior, we shall simply have to apply to an overseas modistes. There is a shop not far from here which supplies dresses by one of the Italian dressmakers. We can get something altered for tomorrow that will serve and order the rest of your wardrobe for later.”
“If that is your suggestion.” Nora nodded.
Scarlett was studying the Dowager with an appraising stare. “Do you know, Lady Russell, I rather think we shall be friends. You’re a good sort.”
“I am pleased you think so. I am aware the opinion is not one held by many members of the working classes toward the members of Society. However, I rather think that you are good for Nora and that we shall have an amiable relationship indeed.”
A smile softened the Dowager’s stern expression. “I am glad that Nora has such a stalwart protector. The two of you must be very close.”
Nora and Scarlett exchanged a look. “Yes. Very much so.”
“That is all to the good. You will need her support as you settle into your new role as the Duchess. And as loyal as you have shown yourself to be, I have no doubt your relationship will be a bedrock for many years to come.”
“I think so as well.” Her stomach was slowly unknotting, her shoulders relaxing at the Dowager’s kindness and acceptance.
She was trying to decide on a proper response or a graceful way to change the topic of discussion when a carriage clattered up and stopped nearby. Out of habit, Nora looked up, then froze.
The carriage was more of a small gig, and it was driven by Arthur.
CHAPTERTWELVE
